


You Live A Lie

by incogniteau



Series: WinterHawk Bingo Fills [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Gaslighting, Human Experimentation, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, shackled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27060949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incogniteau/pseuds/incogniteau
Summary: Dr. Zemo sighed. “James, we’ve been through this. Clint is a figment of your imagination created out of a desperate need you had. But we’re working on that through your treatment here. But in order for this to work, you must be cooperative. You must work with me.”Subjected to a new HYDRA torture technique, Bucky begins to question his sanity and the existence of the most important person and relationship in his life.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: WinterHawk Bingo Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975027
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: Ten Trails Whump Challenge 2020, Whumptober 2020, Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	You Live A Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Square fill: Helmut Zemo for WinterHawk Bingo  
> Day 1 - shackled - Whumptober2020  
> Day 4 - gaslighting - Ten Trails Whump (Trail Ten: Tricked and Treated)  
> [Prompt](https://whumpster-dumpster.tumblr.com/post/628956952077205504/i-know-what-happened-i-know-theyre-real-and-you) by whumpster-dumpster on Tumblr

“I know what happened! I know he’s real, and you _took_ me from him!”

Bucky sat across from the facility’s head psychiatrist, Dr. Zemo ( _What kind of a name is that anyway?_ Bucky thinks). He gripped the arms of his chair white-knuckle tight. All he wants is to escape this place and back to his and Clint’s apartment in New York City. Bucky doesn’t even really know how he ended up in the psychiatric facility, but the orderlies and the doctor told him he had a psychotic break. He has no recollection of snapping or “losing it,” so he just has to take their word for it. But something has begun to not sit right. Bucky thinks he remembers somebody, thugs, ambushing him as he walked back to their apartment, dinner in hand, and being thrown into a shady looking van. But that’s very fuzzy, so he doesn’t know if that’s real or not.

“The brain is a delicate thing, James, especially yours. You have such a big imagination; you make these daydreams, so you can feel better. You come up with these ‘comfort characters’, like Clint Barton.”

“Clint is real; he’s my boyfriend!” Bucky shouted shaking his head in denial at Dr. Zemo’s explanation.

“You created Clint Barton because you didn’t _have_ a companion, James. You were lonely; you wanted attention and support. Don’t you see that _I_ support you? I give you the medication you need to get better and stop relapsing into these delusions. But it can’t help you if you don’t take it.”

“He is real. He’s out there somewhere looking for me. He…he has to be…”

 _Was_ Clint looking for him? Bucky didn’t know how he got here, so would Clint know Bucky was here? They were telling him Clint didn’t exist, so they wouldn’t tell Clint they brought him here. What if they were right? What if he actually _had_ made up Clint? But that just didn’t seem _right_! Bucky so vividly remembered running his fingers through Clint’s hair, washing it, when they shared a shower, grasping Clint’s calloused hands as they took their walks through Central Park, and curling up underneath the blanket on the bed and snaking his legs around his boyfriend. His mouth remembers the feel of Clint’s mouth and tongue, gentle nips on his lips from Clint’s teeth. Are those memories real? Or are they imaginary scenarios with an imaginary friend?

“James, it’s time for your meds,” Dr. Zemo gently said holding out a small, yellow pill and a paper cup filled with water.

Bucky looked at them and whimpered slightly. “I don’t wanna take ‘em,” he mumbled. “I’m beginning to forget how his aftershave smells, how his five o’clock shadow felt when he would kiss my neck.”

Dr. Zemo sighed. “James, we’ve been through this. Clint is a figment of your imagination created out of a desperate need you had. But we’re working on that through your treatment here. But in order for this to work, you must be cooperative. You must work with me.” The doctor again held out the water and medicine to Bucky.

Bucky sighed, reluctantly took them from the psychiatrist, and choked them down.

\- o - o - o - o -

“He’s building a tolerance,” Zemo stated. “We will need to begin titrating the dosage up in order to maintain his compliance.”

Bucky tugged weakly at the shackles on his wrists and ankles that tethered him to a metal medical table; his breath came rapid and shallow. He looked paler than normal. An IV line snaked from the crook of his left elbow to a plastic bag filled with fluid; the fluid is slightly murky because Helmut Zemo, eager to test the HYDRA scientists’ creation, had several clean up steps bypassed. He would test a final, cleaner drug later. The crude compound was yielding desirable enough results; it allowed him to alter or even erase someone’s memories.

“We’ll try a five milligram per kilo of body weight dosage,” Zemo commanded looking down at his “patient.” He noted the skin rubbed raw on Bucky’s wrists from fighting against the shackles encircling them tightly.

Bucky’s eyes were closed, sweat on his brow ran into his hair; his head was slowly shaking back and forth in distress.

“Clint,” he softly breathed. “Please…Clint…”

\- o - o - o - o -

Clint slammed his fists against the large table in front of him. Maps, charts, lists, they all spread out before him along with more taped up on walls around him. They showed known and suspected HYDRA hideouts and dossiers on HYDRA agents. So much information along with the dire situation had begun to short circuit Clint’s brain some time ago.

“We have no solid leads! None!” His frustration blew out of him like a steam vent beneath the ocean. The rest of the Avengers surrounded him, also studying the intel. “I mean, Bucky goes out to pick up dinner for the two of us for a nice night in, and he doesn’t come home, and the only clue anything happened is a bag of busted containers of Chinese food on the sidewalk outside our apartment building.”

Clint slumped down into a chair, elbows on his knees and head in his palms.

“We’ll search where ever we need to,” Steve said quietly, ever the optimist.

Clint looked upwards with a glare. “Wonderful. That’s hundreds of places. And for every place we know about, there’s probably two more popping up that hasn’t made it on our radar.”

Natasha took a seat next to him and softly placed a hand on her friend’s back. She rubbed slow circles between his shoulder blades.

“We’ll find him, Clint. And Bucky is strong; you know this. Think of all he withstood from HYDRA already; what he overcame. And that was before he met you. He has so much to hold onto, Clint. He has _you_ ; he has memories of you to hold onto. To remind him you’re out here looking for him, and the life that waits for him when we find him.”


End file.
